


LUCKY CAT

by pettytooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Inarizaki, Introspection, M/M, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, You're Welcome, aran has two mothers CAUSE I SAID SO!!!, but with an angsty twist, romance isnt really at the forefront of this, the summer inarizaki fic that we all wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettytooru/pseuds/pettytooru
Summary: During the summer following his final year of high school, Miya Atsumu is hit with the shocking realisation that he isn't ready for things to change. If growing up and having to move apart from one another was just another part of the natural order, he had promptly decided that he wanted nothing to do with it.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Ojiro Aran
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	LUCKY CAT

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a warm-up piece where I indulged in my love for Inarizaki (the Miyas and Aran in particular) but then I was suddenly spending hours and days writing it so I hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> The premise for this was based off 'Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe' by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. It is my favourite book EVER and I highly recommend that you get yourself a copy!!! The author's writing is so beautiful, and inspires me throughout all of my work.
> 
> Whilst writing I listened to the album 'Sidney Gish on Audiotree Live' (recorded in 2019) on REPEAT, so I recommend tuning in for the vibes!
> 
> cw // _lots _of swearing, brief description of injury (but nothing graphic don't worry!!!)__

─────  ฅ/ᐠ｡ᆽ｡ᐟ \  ─────

When Atsumu’s parents had discovered they were expecting twins, their older relatives were instantly wary. Tradition left them under the lingering belief that this was bad luck, and whilst they never expressed their concerns to the child-bearing couple, one of the grandparents chose to take matters into their own hands.

Rather than a standard cash gift to celebrate their birth, the boys’ grandmother had bought them a lucky cat. 

It was expertly crafted - around ten inches tall, white porcelain with the right paw raised to the sky. It was adorned with a red bow around its neck, at the centre of which was a green jade gemstone. Just below this, kanji characters had been carefully inscribed on the spherical stomach.

The cat had been handmade for the occasion, and was treasured by the Miyas as soon as they had received it. When Osamu and Atsumu had gotten old enough to be trusted with it, the cat had been placed in their bedroom - watching over them with soft eyes and a grounding presence. 

But porcelain wasn’t invincible, and luck is always bound to run short.

Finishing his third year of high school did not bring Atsumu the glistening rays of freedom that his classmates seemed to be basking in. 

Finishing his third year of high school felt like a finality, a finale with a sequel that was rumoured to be written, but not quite realised.

Finishing his third year of high school felt like the world was ending.

He had played his final official match alongside his teammates at Inarizaki months prior, captain's number proud on his front and back. His tears remained stagnant at their loss against Itachiyama in the final, only to make themselves known when he caught the longing look Osamu had given the stadium as they walked out shoulder to shoulder. 

That had been the last time they would face the competition together; the last performance by the unbreakable duo that never failed to blow away the competition, each of them compensating for the other should he fall. 

It felt like it was the last time Atsumu would have that stubborn bastard standing, no,  _ pushing  _ at his side and digging under his skin. 

Always living just inside his periphery, Osamu had been in his business as a full time occupant ever since he followed Atsumu out of their mother’s womb. He wouldn’t want it any other way, despite constantly claiming otherwise.

If growing up and having to move apart from one another was just a part of the natural order, Atsumu promptly decided that he wanted nothing to do with it.

_ Yup _ , he thought,  _ fuck this. _

With a summer that promised devastating heat and the incessant screeching of cicadas, Atsumu was left with much more on his mind than refilling the ice tray in the freezer. 

Much to his brother's dismay.

"Oi shitface!"

"What’dya want, 'Samu." 

"I see ya drinkin' your fancy little drink with ice cubes, refill the tray when ya use it! Lazy bastard, my glass is already getting hot in this fuckin' weather!"

"Watch your mouth, and stop shoutin', you’re startin’ to sound like a squealing pig-"

"Fuck off, don't act like some golden child now!  _ You vile sack of _ \- oh, hey Aran."

"Aran-kun! Did ya bring some snacks for us?" 

Familiarity drenched the boundaries of the Miya household's garden area. Osamu hanging from the back door, empty ice tray in his hand, as Atsumu lay with his back on the grass. Neither were surprised by the appearance of Ojiro Aran standing just inside of the back gate. 

Having been friends (albeit begrudgingly) with the twins since they were all still so green, it was common and expected for him to show up at their house. Sometimes he would bring Kita with him, other times he would be out on a run and taking a detour.

Or, on days like this one, his annual descent into madness would lead to him cooking way too much food for one person alone to consume.

It had been a year since he finished high school and, aside from working part-time at a quaint café two blocks from his house, Aran had done all he could to stay sane.

Over the past year, he had grown his hair out slightly - his curls now styled into twists on top, cropped short at the sides. He had also gotten stockier than before; gaining both weight and muscle consistently.

Aran found himself going for walks at stupid hours just to banish the jitters from his legs, working out every day, even occasionally going to help Kita on his family’s farm - just for a sense of purpose.

He had been sure a break would do him good, planning to apply for some of the V. League teams at the start of the following season. After a few scouts had approached him straight out of high school, Aran had been confident that he would be accepted to one of the big teams. Yet, he found himself increasingly antsy; never having had this much time to himself before. 

This much time to doubt himself before.

Thus, there he was; visiting the Miyas with a backpack full of food and sweat dripping down his temple, cursing himself for not dressing appropriately for the weather.

"Hey Osamu, d'ya mind if I borrow some shorts whilst I'm here? I'm regrettin' these trousers already." 

"Sure."

Atsumu's indignant squawk at the prospect of being ignored dies in his throat as Aran strolls over and hands him a bento box neatly wrapped in a yellow furoshiki cloth. He barely manages to mumble out a 'thank you' as his hunger has him hastily ripping it open to see the contents. 

The smell of tamagoyaki filled his senses instantly, the umeboshi sitting alongside it making his mouth water. 

"Aran-kun... Will ya marry me? Please?" 

"No, 'Tsumu. Ya don't need to ask me every time I make you somethin', my answer isn't gonna change."

(It wasn't as if whenever Atsumu joked about that his heart would stutter ever so slightly. Not at all.)

Flopping back onto the grass with a pitiful moan, cradling his newly given bento to his chest, Aran couldn't help but chuckle at the blond's dramatics. 

"You better have some food for me in there, too." 

Oh, right. There's two of them.

"'Course." Aran strolled over, passing another bento wrapped in a furoshiki printed with tiny onigiri to the twin loitering in the door. 

Having been a part of this dynamic for so long, he made his way into the Miya house to go grab a change of clothes in a state of ease.

_ How ironic _ , Aran thought to himself as he pulled a pair of Atsumu's shorts out of the drawer,  _ that these two assholes might just be the ones to help me get through this summer. _

“So, you guys actually gonna do anythin’ these next few weeks?”

Atsumu only groaned, not bothering to dignify himself with an actual answer as he shovelled in his food.

“Workin’, probably.” Osamu replied, briefly glaring at the disturbing chewing-sounds that his brother was making.

“Oh yeah, ya got that part-time job. What hours d’you work?”

“They’re pretty relaxed about it now that I'm finished with school; these past few days they’ve just been letting me know when they need me to go in. I've asked about gettin’ more hours but they’re probably still workin’ it out.”

“Fair. That café I work at is so overstaffed, they get me in for like a couple hours max at the weekends. I’m just lucky that Shinsuke’s family give me a bit of money whenever I help out at the farm.”

“How is Kita-san?!” Atsumu butted in, having devoured his food in record time. Osamu rolled his eyes, finally slouching down in one of their outdoor chairs and pulling his hat down over his face.

“He’s fine. I think he’s settin’ up to inherit the farm real soon - they’ve been getting things done real quick with his help. It’s kinda scary how efficient he can be.”

“Man, he’s so amazing! I can’t imagine workin’ on a farm all day.” Atsumu seemed to consider that for a moment, before rounding on Aran. “So, ya go over there and help him? What else do ya do during the week?”

“Well, I’m gonna be honest ‘Tsumu, I’m pretty fuckin’ bored these days.” Aran let out a huff of amusement. “I’ve been outta school for a whole year, and all I do is go running or come visit you bastards.”

“Aw, Aran-kun, I’m touched.”

“I’m here against my will.”

“No yer not! You  _ like  _ visitin’ us, no need to be defensive about it.” 

“If you say so. Anyway, how about you? Now that yer free from the reigns of high school, what are your summer plans? Ya didn’t answer me earlier.”

“Rot. Practice a new serve, maybe.” Atsumu was trying not to think about it too hard. 

“Well aren’t you optimistic. Why don’t ya go for runs or something?”

“Are ya really that worried about my health?”

“Just to pass the time, moron. Sometimes I ask myself why I even try, honestly.”

“Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll get my daily recommended exercise and get super fit for when I beat your ass in next season’s V. League games.”

“In your dreams, ‘Tsumu. I’ve also been workin’ on my own volleyball skills this last year, I’m pretty sure I can handle ya.”

“Well, me and ‘Samu are the ones who made it to the finals in their third year - don’t get too cocky in front of yer resident _ team captain _ .”

“I’m beggin’ ya,  _ please  _ shut up ‘Sumu.”

“Back outta this, ‘Samu! I’m hypin’ you up too ya know!”

“You’re bein’ a cocky bastard, ya mean! This is why I have to bribe Suna to come visit us, he doesn’t wanna put up with you.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!”

“I think you’re forgettin’ that I  _ was  _ one of the top five aces in the country, ya know.” Aran butted in, swiftly shutting the other two up. “I’m much better than I was last year, all that farm work has only made my spikes more powerful. Suck on that.”

The twins were staring at him, mouths opening and closing like fish, unable to deny his claims. It was a sight that the dark haired boy couldn’t help but laugh at, the others joining him soon after.

_ Yeah _ , Aran mused,  _ maybe this summer won't be so bad after all. _

After a couple hours of easy conversation laying in the unobscured heat, Aran grabbed the (now empty) bento boxes and got up to leave - chatting something or other about having to get home to work out. 

Osamu wasn’t particularly listening, having zoned out through the majority of the conversation between his brother and old teammate. It was disgustingly obvious that Atsumu idolised the older boy, despite him not really being his ‘senior’ anymore. Their age gap felt much less significant now that they weren’t in school, or playing together in afternoon practices at the gym. 

No more school. What a relief.

That’s not to say that Osamu wouldn’t miss it. Already feeling begrudgingly nostalgic for the lunches banding with Suna and Gin to tease his brother, for the walks home after practice, the team grabbing snacks from the local convenience store. 

For the way things were, and had been for what felt like his whole life so far.

But still, now he could do whatever he wanted. Practicing and perfecting his onigiri recipe that he’d begun working on half way through his third year, finally figuring out how to make the triangle moulds of rice look somewhat presentable. He still struggled to get the exact right amount of filling inside; either lacking enough to make the flavour notable, or making it leak out of the sides having gotten too carried away. 

Osamu didn’t hate volleyball. Not one bit. He just had his sights on other things.

“Bye ‘Samu, ‘Tsumu.”

“See ya later Aran-kun!”

“Bye.”

Even as the afternoon dragged towards evening, the heat had yet to waver. Osamu decided he couldn’t stand the cicada calls or his brother’s irritatingly content sighing much longer.

“‘M goin’ inside. Don’t miss me too much.”

“‘Kay.” 

Atsumu’s shirt was pulled up, covering his face and muffling his sleepy affirmation. Osamu rolled his eyes and left him out there, quietly sliding the door shut behind him.

Stretched out in the heat, Atsumu found himself reflecting on their last years of high school.

When his brother revealed that he was quitting volleyball after their final year, Atsumu’s world had turned upside down. All of his visions of the future seemed to shatter, the loose shards prickling his insides until sadness became the familiar itch of anger. 

It was as if someone had told him  _ he _ had to quit, too.

For what was he without the only person who knew how to keep him in check, the one who covered his ass when his sets turned vicious and his short fuse got the best of him?

What was he without the fighting spirit at his side, a part of him for the past eighteen years; motivating him in the form of competition and petty quips?

What was he, if not someone to balance out his twin? If not one half of a functioning, polished machine?

Would the court he had made his home welcome him back, knowing he was incomplete?

Wasn’t that just his luck; the one person he thought would always be by his side had already gotten sick of him.

Even in that moment, sitting in the afternoon sun and wiping the sweat from his bare stomach, he found himself seeking comfort in the familiar arms of self-pity. 

After that initial sadness-turned-anger had left his body in the form of a few well placed kicks and punches - all of which were returned in equal measure - Atsumu was left battered and exhausted. 

Somehow, he knew it had nothing to do with the bruising on his arms or the blood dripping from his nose.

But the burden of knowing his time playing beside his brother was limited seemed to lessen with time. Throwing himself into his personal routine of individual training and optimising his body for the sport, Atsumu could almost forget the clock above his head. 

Almost.

It seemed dramatic, even to him. ‘Samu wasn’t  _ dying _ . He wasn’t leaving the country or cutting ties with his family. He would just spend his weekdays working in his restaurant, which he had been secretly saving up towards for years. 

Yet, he knew there was no going back to the way things were. No matter how stubbornly his childhood dream of the two of them facing the volleyball world together stuck in the back of his head.

Despite the peace he had finally made with himself after a year of knowing all of this, the end of high school seemed to obliterate any progress he had trekked through. His mental strength struggled to keep up with the sense of finality that poked and prodded his every thought, injecting them with the reminder that things will  _ never be the same again. It’s over. _

Maybe this grievance would need more than just time to heal. Atsumu couldn’t help but think that getting over it wouldn’t be as smooth as he had once believed.

_ God, I need to get a grip. _

Finally sick of his unrelenting thoughts and incessant pessimism, he pulled his shirt back down and took a moment to anchor himself in his surroundings. The chatter from adjacent garden areas had begun to die down, families heading inside as the sun surpassed its peak, and Atsumu found himself content in the relative quiet. 

All that mattered in that moment was the sun sinking steadily past the horizon, the soft chatter of nature, and the cool air that acted as a balm for the stinging heat of summer.

That evening, when Atsumu finally detached himself from the grass in their garden, he walked back to their room and found Osamu talking on the phone. 

Just as they had discussed this morning, he was talking to his supervisor at work - at least, Atsumu was assuming as much based on what was being said:

“Yeah, I’m free every day. Yeah. Yup. Without fail.” He paused, Atsumu could almost make out the muffled voice through the speakers. “Tomorrow, then? Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, I’ll see ya then.”

“ _ Yeah, yeah, yes, yeah _ .” The blond mocked, dodging a swipe as he walked past his brother and climbed into the top bunk.

“Shut it, I’ve just been offered full time work. ‘M gonna be so damn wealthy after this.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause every billionaire made their name through moppin’ floors and handin’ out food.”

“I wish; it’s a noble job.”

“Ya got that right. Can’t say I’m jealous of you, though.”

“You will be once ya start getting bored. Mark my words.”

“Yeah right. If you say so.”

Osamu was right.

Two weeks after their graduation ceremony, the boredom really began to creep in.

Boredom, amongst other things.

With his final exams done and dusted, Atsumu suddenly had all this time to think. There was a lot to cover, and his brain didn’t hesitate to bring everything he had repressed for the last few months (maybe even the past year) to the forefront of his mind.

Osamu was finally offered full time pay at the after-school job he had been working, and of course he had accepted. Still saving his money, working all available hours so he could afford to open his shop in a densely populated area - somewhere central. Atsumu couldn’t blame him for spending so many hours there, at his job; at least he was  _ doing  _ something, getting well paid too.

That didn’t make Atsumu feel any less lonely at home, without him.

Sure, he had met up with Suna and Gin - drinking sake together under the loose supervision of Suna’s older sister. It had been fun, but their dynamic was clearly missing the fourth member.

_ Is this what it’s always going to be like, then? _ Atsumu would glumly think to himself, drifting to sleep alone in their shared room before Osamu had finished his shift.

Before he even registered it happening, all of these ugly feelings -  _ resentment, anger, hurt  _ \- began to culminate into something much bigger than late night thoughts. 

They clouded his vision whenever he saw his brother, making his fingers itch on the rare occasion that he’d be up as early as him. Fuming as the other got ready for his morning shift. 

Distantly, he knew he was being unreasonable, and he knew that it wasn’t going to end well. 

He also knew that he couldn’t help it, ‘cause ‘Samu was just leaving him  _ like always _ \- sick and tired of him and being so  _ selfish _ , probably quitting volleyball  _ just to get away from him, to not be associated with his loud-mouthed brother anymore.  _

_ Bastard, not caring about anyone else’s feelings. He’s supposed to stick with me ‘cause we’re the same! The same DNA, same skills, same dreams! It was supposed to be me and him, takin’ on the whole world! I don’t wanna do that alone. I can’t- _

“‘Sumu. Why’re ya sittin’ there like yer possessed. Stop starin’ at the floor and get out of bed. You’re gettin’ lazy, these days.”

Maybe if Osamu hadn’t stopped to tease him, if he had just gotten on with his day and ignored his brother, it would’ve been fine. 

Maybe if Atsumu hadn’t kept all his ugly feelings tucked away in a box that only his brother had the key to open, it would’ve been fine.

Maybe then, things wouldn’t have ended up like they did.

Their luck was always bound to run out, sooner or later.

“Fuck off ‘Samu.”

“I was  _ jokin’ _ , jesus ‘Sumu, what's wrong with ya?”

“What’s wrong with  _ me _ ? Take a look at yourself, ‘Samu. Workin’ every damn day when it’s the  _ summer _ , ya got your whole life to do that shit!”

“Just ‘cus you’re bein’ pathetic and mopin’ around at home doesn’t mean I have to do the same. I actually gotta work to get what I want, ya bastard!”

“What  _ you _ want?” Atsumu was standing now, having jumped down from the top bunk, fists trembling at his sides. “All you’re out to do is spite me, workin’ as an excuse to not see me anymore! I bet ya can’t wait till I go to team tryouts, then i’ll be out yer hair for good!”

“Not everythin’ is about you, ‘Sumu! I have my own damn life, why the fuck would I waste my time tryna spite you when I could do shit that I actually  _ enjoy _ ?”

“What, so ya never  _ enjoyed  _ playin’ volleyball with me?”

“Jesus, yer so pathetic! We talked ‘bout this  _ months _ ago, I thought you were over it. Just ‘cause you’re feelin’ a bit lonely doesn’t mean you can make all these accusations about what _ I  _ wanna do with  _ my _ life. You’re fuckin’ thick in the head if ya think-”

The first punch whipped Osamu’s head to the side, jaw crunching sickeningly at the impact.

Hands were on him before Atsumu could react, back hitting the drawers as he lost his balance.

At this point, they would usually back off. Both a bit bruised already; just like the first time they had fought after Osamu had announced his career plans.

But they didn’t back off. Neither of them.

It got messy, fast. Hair-pulling, dirty kicks, and the unmistakable clang of pottery shattering on the wooden floor as they slammed against the dresser. It took their parents’ combined strength to pull them off one another, chests heaving with eyes locked in a battle of pure hatred.

Neither of them had ever seen the other wearing  _ that  _ expression, before.

Being steered to the bathroom by his mother, Atsumu distantly registered the stinging in his knuckles and a sharp pain in his left foot that increased with each step. Adrenaline had staved off the sharpness before, but pain began rolling over him in waves the moment he looked down at the bloody trail he was treading through the house. 

Whatever they had broken must have been right in the path of where his brother had pushed him, and Atsumu was becoming painfully aware of that fact.

Only then did he realise how much of his weight his mother was taking the burden of.

“I-” He almost shocked himself by how choked his voice had become, each breath a ragged thing torn from his aching chest.

“Quiet, Atsumu. I know. It’s okay.” Her tone wasn’t exactly friendly, anger evident in the determined expression she wore, but he was grateful that she held it back for his sake. No amount of shouting or lecturing would make him face his actions, not just yet.

Sitting him down in the bathtub, she propped his leg up and visibly grimaced. 

Atsumu’s stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought of the damage, feeling lucky that it was on the underside of his foot - right where he couldn’t see it. He never was good with blood.

Having a neighbour that worked as a school nurse was at least  _ slightly  _ comforting - she was round in minutes, having the summer off along with the students. Her knowledge of what to do in this kind of situation was marginally better than that of the boys’ mother, but she also managed to ground them with her confident demeanour.

They started by disinfecting the area, and Atsumu had looked away soon after that.

It was obvious that Atsumu would have to go to the hospital to get checked over, but they managed to remove the main shards with a pair of tweezers, blood steadily ( _ sickeningly _ ) dripping into the bath all the while. 

At least he had a lot else to think about, as always. He was starting to suspect what had shattered; the object that had sat at their bedside for as long as he could remember. 

The broken lucky cat left him with an ache in his chest that rivalled the one in his sole.

One uncomfortable trip to the hospital later, Atsumu was on crutches with a bandage around his foot. They had numbed and cleaned out the wound, using a few stitches to keep the lacerations closed. They had checked for any damage to the bone, raving to Atsumu about how lucky he was that it wouldn’t have any long lasting effects. Aside from a minimum of two weeks on crutches and a prescription of antibiotics, he was free to go. 

Apparently, the white ceramic hadn’t gotten him all that deep, but the place it had punctured him was delicate. He would heal, of course, but it was going to hurt for a while. But Atsumu was more concerned about the state of the shattered object than himself.

Osamu and his father were nowhere to be seen when he and his mother stumbled back into the house around noon. He hadn’t heard from either of them since that morning, bar the muffled sound of his father’s voice through his mother’s phone.

Silence plagued the room as his mother leant down to untie his (singular) shoe in the genkan, prompting him to lean on the wall as she slipped it from under his foot. The spell wasn’t broken in the walk down the hall, nor the slightly awkward shuffle which sat them both in the kitchen, facing one another.

“Atsumu.”

_ There it is. _

“I’m sorry, Ma.” 

“Atsumu-”

“I’m sorry ya missed work, I wasted yer time. I don’t even know why I did it, ‘Samu was just- and I-”

“ _ Atsumu _ .”

“-I just think I‘m goin’ a bit crazy, ya know? School is over, volleyball is  _ over- _ ”

Warm hands pulled him back down from whatever edge he was peering over, his mother’s thumbs methodically brushing over his own.

“Nothing is over, Atsumu. After this little break, you’re gonna get signed to the best volleyball team in Japan, and be the most dangerous entity on that court. The opposing team will shit their pants at the sight of ya.”

Hearing his mother’s rare cursing, usually reserved for teasing, shocked a laugh out of him. It was weak, a little worn, but it was there. Miya-san took pride in that, aiming to keep his son’s spirits above sinking level. 

“But-”

“I heard what you and Osamu were fighting about. I can tell you’re worried about playin’ volleyball alone.” She squeezed his hand, keeping him from the denial that was surely on the tip of his tongue. “But you’re gonna be surrounded by talented players wherever you go, all leagues above the high school level you’re used to. You won’t leave ‘em behind, and ya won't let them overtake you - that, i’m certain of.”

Atsumu’s watery eyes and tilted head encouraged her to keep going. Even if she wasn’t completely accurate with her predictions.

“Osamu... has always loved cooking. He’s been telling me all about his plans for the restaurant this past year, avoiding talkin’ to you about it for this exact reason. Perhaps he made a mistake, ‘cause I think ya need to hear from  _ him  _ how excited he is about it. Honestly, Atsumu. It’s the same sparkle you get when ya came home from evening practice.” She took a deep breath. “He should be the one to tell ya more. He has a name picked out, already lookin’ at affordable furnishing and decoration’ for it.”

Whilst he may have been stubborn, hot-tempered, and full to the brim of self pity, he wasn’t  _ completely  _ ignorant to his own actions.

And, in that moment, he realised how much of a self-righteous jerk he had been.

_ Shit. _

His head was swimming with shame, so much of it that he felt as if he would burst at the seams. Tears tracked down his cheeks and jeez,  _ when had he gotten so lame?  _

As if he were a kid with a fever, his mother put him back to bed - not his bed, but the one in the empty room at the end of the hall. Family friends would typically stay here when they came to stay, so the covers were freshly made and untouched. 

The strong smell of detergent still lingered. It didn’t comfort him as much as it should’ve.

“You can sleep in here from now on, okay Atsumu? Ya won’t be able to get to the top bunk with your foot.”

The excuse was feeble, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t pull himself up, but he was grateful for what his mother left unsaid. 

When he was settling in to sleep once more, worn out by the chaos of the day, a voice anchored him to reality for just one moment longer - soft hands brushing through the dry ends of his hair.

“We won't force you two to talk. Just… don’t fight like that again, please?”

_ How sad _ . Atsumu had thought, head sinking into the pillow.  _ That our time’s been cut just that bit shorter. _

_ How sad, that it’s all my fault. _

If the first two weeks of summer had felt like a drag, the following were an eternity. 

Since the fight, the Miya household settled into a routine:

Everyone who worked (read:  _ not Atsumu _ ) was up and out of the house by eight thirty sharp, the remaining person (read:  _ Atsumu _ ) refused to leave his room until after then.

Some days he wouldn’t even leave his room, just grabbing food and drink, occasionally making his way down the hall to the bathroom - moving around on his crutches was a pain, so laying in his bed for hours became the norm. 

Occasionally, he would brave the garden; already irritated by the less than flattering tan lines he was sure to have with the bandage covering his foot and ankle. Those days were nice, but he would promptly hide inside should he see the top of Aran’s head over the wall. 

When everyone else returned home, Atsumu would greet his parents, exchanging formalities before heading back to his newly appointed room.

Atsumu and Osamu ignored one another. The grey haired twin was yet to ask about Atsumu’s injury, the blond yet to look at the bruise blossoming on the other’s face. 

It was  _ fine _ .

Suna, Akagi, and Kita visited at separate points throughout the week - Atsumu refusing to speak to any of them. They would sit with Osamu either outside or in the living area, laughter ringing through the house. 

Their old captain was the only one that had really bothered to check in on the other twin, going as far to walk into the bedroom whilst he was round. Shame coursed through Atsumu’s veins as he pretended to be taking a nap, but embarrassment kept him from dropping the act. 

In the end, Kita left - placing a small basket with snacks and fresh bandages inside, as well as a note that read:

_ ‘Keep your wound clean and make sure to get lots of rest’ _

\-  _ Kita _

Atsumu’s mother had informed him that only Kita was aware of what had happened between the two brothers, Osamu not mentioning it to any of their other friends. 

He was relieved. Awkward expressions of sympathy or consolation irked him to no end.

Aran was around as regularly as always, but Atsumu managed to avoid him as well - doing everything in his power to keep his injury under wraps.

The only thing keeping Atsumu somewhat sane was going for evening walks, stemming from that suggestion of daily runs that Aran had talked about weeks previously. Using his crutches had become much easier after a couple days practice, although his arms started to ache if he walked more than a mile or so. This meant he usually limited himself to just looping the lanes around his house. 

Relearning back alleys and side streets was better than laying in bed feeling sorry for himself, at least.

His foot seemed to be healing at a snail's pace, but the crutches became a thing of the past after two and a half weeks or so. Atsumu began his recovery with painful walks to the kitchen, daggers shooting through his leg all the way, but his stubbornness kept him walking with only a slight limp.

Pushing his own limits was a common practice for Atsumu, so the evening walks steadily got longer as well. It left him going to sleep with a lingering ache in his foot most nights, but at least he didn’t have to use the dreaded crutches anymore. 

Small victories meant a lot, these days.

One night, when the fresh odour emanating from the four walls of his sort-of-bedroom became particularly suffocating, Atsumu went for a walk.

Not bothering to throw on a hoodie or change out of his sweats, he stalked out the backdoor just as the sun began to dip under the horizon. The haste to get out blinded him from any common sense.

He’s more surprised than anything at the pressure that built behind his eyes, bottom lip trembling where he chewed on it. Not knowing how to prevent the tears from falling, he walked.

And walked.

And  _ walked. _

The remnants of purple and pink hues are just barely visible when Atsumu came back to himself, coherent thought shocked back into existence alongside the realisation that summer nights weren’t  _ quite _ as warm as summer days. Goosebumps were scattered across bare arms, his nose running - and not quite from the tears anymore. 

Small victories. Atsumu was banking them at this point.

Stopping abruptly on the path he had been strolling down, the blond looked around.

“Huh.” He spoke aloud to no one in particular. “Where the fuck am I?”

Getting lost in a suburbanised area of Hyōgo would have been embarrassing. It  _ should _ have been, but he couldn’t seem to conjure up any feeling outside of exhaustion and an incessant ache in his legs.

Part of him wanted to give into his self destructive nature; to walk all night, let himself get ill, then proceed to mope about it for a couple days. But looking after his body was so ingrained into his head that he couldn’t do it. He was going to get inside then proceed from there. 

No point in making an action plan when times like these called for on the spot thinking.

Atsumu picked himself back up, ignoring the now-familiar ache in the sole of his left foot, and continued to walk. It wasn’t long before he came across a pay phone nestled neatly next to a nondescript corner shop, the owner leaning on the door frame beside the closed sign. 

Holding the phone in his hand, Atsumu hesitated after pressing the first three numbers of his home phone. The idea of facing his family, his  _ brother _ , at that moment had him considering the shop owner’s cigarette with something like longing.

He dialled the only other number he ever bothered to remember.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi Ojiro-san, it’s Atsumu. Miya. Is Aran there?”

“Oh, Atsumu-kun! Of course, I'll go get him for you.”

“Thank you.”

The small silence that followed left Atsumu hopping from one foot to another in the cramped boothe, suddenly realising he was less than prepared to tell Aran what he was doing and why he was calling at… Whatever time it was.

“‘Tsumu, what do ya want?”

“Evenin’ to you  _ too _ , Aran-kun. No formalities for yer life long friend?”

“It’s almost midnight, Atsumu. My patience for formalities runs out past ten.” 

Well, there’s one mystery solved.

“Okay, okay. I, uh, kinda need your help?”

A deep sigh echoed across the phone line and, just this once, Atsumu couldn’t blame Aran for being mad at him.

“What is it then?”

“I’m… uh…” Eloquent as ever, the embarrassment was finally catching up to him. At least the heat in his cheeks helped combat the chill in the nighttime air. “‘m lost.”

“You’re lost.”

“...Yeah.”

“At midnight.”

“Yeah.”

“Somewhere in Hyōgo?”

“Somewhere in Hyōgo.”

Aran was silent for a moment, likely taking stock of the situation and figuring out how he could swoop in and save Atsumu from imminent demise. Or perhaps he was pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head like Atsumu had seen him doing on multiple occasions through their lifelong friendship.

(It was the latter.)

“Okay. What can ya see then.”

“Pay phone.”

Another silence.

“Apart from that,  _ Miya _ .”

_ Damn _ , Atsumu thought as the heat in his cheeks hit him again at full force,  _ he’s pissed _ .

“Oh. Right. Um… There’s a convenience store here, real run down lookin’ place.” 

He returned the dirty look the shop owner began giving him through the glass. It was just his luck that those things weren’t as soundproof as he had thought.

“Is anyone around?”

“Yup, owner’s glarin’ at me right now.”

“Did ya think to ask  _ them _ where you are?”

_ Oh _ .

“Oh.”

“Atsumu.”

“One second.”

“Are you fu-“

Aran’s voice was cut off as Atsumu pulled the phone from his ear, covering the speaker with his palm as he opened the door and leaned out.

“‘Scuse me, sir! Where am I?”

“Hyōgo.”

_ Bastard _ .

“Yeah, but whereabouts in it?”

“Outside my shop. The ‘run-down’ lookin’ one, as you called it.”

“Area?”

“Can’t ya read street signs?”

“Oh for-“

Atsumu slammed the booth’s door shut again, cutting himself off this time, before pulling the phone back to his ear. 

“He won’t tell me.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“He heard me slaggin’ it off and now he won’t tell me where I am.”

Dead silence.

“Atsumu.” Oh yeah, he was  _ definitely _ pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… What else is around?”

“Just housin’, really. There was this weird lookin’ wall I passed a while back though, painted with a big mural on the front. Looked pretty cool.”

“Wait, what kinda mural? What was painted on it?”

“C’mon, Aran, it’s dark! I couldn’t see it very well.”

“Fine! But ya must’ve seen something if you knew it was a mural.”

“Um… I thought it looked a bit like a nine tailed kitsune but it could’ve been some kinda fucked up octopus.”

Aran chose to ignore the octopus comment.

“It was definitely a kitsune. That’s round the corner from my house.”

“What? But I’ve visited yer house loads of times, surely I would recognise this place.”

“Is the shop owner a short dude with an ugly mustache and bowed legs?”

Atsumu couldn’t contain the startled laugh that came from deep in his chest. Catching his eye again, the owner shook his head and threw away his cigarette before heading back inside.

“Yup.”

“Then yes, you’re right near me. I’ll be five. Please,  _ for the love of god _ , don’t move.”

The dial tone rang until Atsumu put the phone down as well, stepping outside.

Bickering with Aran kept the chill away a little longer, easing the bubble of hurt that had been rising in his throat all evening.

How did he manage to walk for so long but only end up by Aran’s house? Was he walking in circles this whole time? How hadn’t he  _ noticed _ ?

“Maybe I really am going crazy.” He mumbled.

“What?” 

Aran’s sudden appearance made him jump, back scraping uncomfortably against the cold metal behind him.

“‘Tsumu?”

The dark skinned boy stood in front of him, a question in his voice.

“Hey, Aran. Sorry I- Uh-”

“Why are ya apologising? You feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah.” Deep breath, there's that pressure again - the one behind his eyes. “Yeah.”

Aran seemed to process that for a moment, before grabbing the other boy’s wrist and turning in the direction of (presumably) his house.

“C’mon, let's go back to mine. Ma says you can stay the night.” 

Uncharacteristically quiet, Atsumu just nodded. 

The two walked in an easy silence, the cover of the night making things a lot easier to ignore. They passed the mural and shared a knowing look, Aran noting the way Atsumu looked relieved at the companionship. 

He knew that the twins had a small fight a few weeks back, but he couldn’t help question why Osamu had spared so many details. Why Atsumu hadn’t told him about it at all, avoiding him until that fateful night. 

Usually the two would jump to complain about the other. 

But this was different. This was uncharted territory. 

Following the formalities of Atsumu greeting Aran’s mothers, apologising for the intrusion (a very late one, at that), the two boys took themselves off to Aran’s bedroom. 

They wordlessly set up a spare futon on the floor, Atsumu rooting around in the cupboard for some clothes he could leech. Aran excused himself to go prepare them some tea, noting how the other had been shivering and  _ how far had he walked before showing up here? _

Returning with two cups in his hands, he decided that he was going to figure out what the hell was going on.

_ Right _ . Aran thought.  _ These bastards have pestered me enough in my life, time to return the favour. _

“Thanks.” Atsumu cupped the tea between his palms, the t-shirt he had put on hanging off his frame. 

“So. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“What? What’dya mean?”

“Something happened. What is it?”

Now, Aran had seen the nasty bruise on Osamu’s cheek and the splotches of purple on both sets of arms, but that was nothing new. That was pretty standard, their fights being renowned at this point (though, he’d never heard of them physically fighting at  _ home,  _ of all places).

“Nothin’, Aran. What the hell are ya gettin’ at?”

“You’re still fightin’ with ‘Samu. Why?”

Atsumu faltered at that, and despite the speed that he pulled himself back together, Aran sadistically thought to himself:  _ I've got you now, stubborn bastard. _

“Me n ‘Samu are always fightin’.” 

“Yeah, but you’re mopin’ about it - usually you’re both back to normal a day later, so what happened this time?”

“How do ya know that, asshole? Nothin’ happened!”

Atsumu never spoke to Aran like that. He was getting defensive, cracking at his delicate edges. Whilst Aran felt slightly bad about pressuring him, he knew that the other needed someone to bully it out of him. 

That’s what he was used to, after all.

“You ignored me for _three_ _weeks_. ‘Samu didn’t hardly mention ya when I visited, and usually he won’t shut up about yer latest stunt. So something _definitely_ happened.”

“He!- I-” 

Atsumu stared at the tea in his hands as if glaring at the translucent liquid was a gateway to imminent combustion. 

“Atsumu, I just want to help.”

That was it, the words that never failed to get him. Soft statements following gentle bullying was the best way to break down the blond’s defenses. 

Eyes glassy, the other boy looked up - eyebrows pinched as he uselessly tried to hold it together.

He always  _ had _ worn his heart on his sleeve. 

Taking the tea from his hands, Aran pulled the other boy into the crook of his shoulder - sitting by his side. 

Knowing better than to pressure him further, they sat that way for a while. Aran had always been a hugger, and having a best friend in Kita didn’t usually allow him to express that. 

Whilst he wasn’t necessarily the best at comforting people, he was happy to try. Despite his complaining about the two Miyas that had driven him past the point of madness on multiple occasions, it didn’t sit right with him to see them like this.

“We- Uh.  _ I _ said some shitty stuff to ‘Samu, he said some back. It was … kinda a normal fight? But then I punched him.  _ Hard _ .” Atsumu grimaced, having pulled back from Aran to stare at one of his walls. “It kinda got worse from there. He- I fell onto some broken porcelain, fucked my foot up. Had to go to hospital and all, I’ve got some stitches now. But it was my fault, really. I was bein’ so selfish and stupid, no wonder he doesn’t wanna speak to me.” 

Somehow, Atsumu calling himself selfish was more shocking than the part about him having to go to the hospital after a fight.

_ Wait _ . 

“Wait. Ya had to get  _ stitches _ ? How’re ya walkin’?”

“Haven’t used my crutches in a couple days, ‘m alright.” 

For the umpteenth time that evening, Aran found himself pinching his bridge. 

_ This guy’s an idiot. _

“How long were ya walkin’ for before ya got here?”

“Uhh… Left my house at about sunset?” 

“ _ Atsumu _ .” 

At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“Okay, whatever.” Aran shook his head, scolding about his lack of self-care would come later. “So, what caused you to fight so bad?” 

“Aran.” He dragged out the vowels, tiredness seeping out of his pores now that he had pulled himself together a bit more. “Why’re ya so interested?”

“‘Cause my two best friends aren’t talkin’ and I wanna help.”

Wide eyes met his own, Atsumu hung up on what Aran had just said.

“We’re your best friends?”

“Well, Kita is too, but you bastards have just about wormed yourselves in there.”

Atsumu seemed sobered by this, nodding to himself.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“It was about ‘Samu quittin’ volleyball.”

Now  _ that _ threw him off. Hadn’t they sorted this out a year ago now?

Picking up on the way Aran’s lips turned into a questioning frown, Atsumu continued:

“I think with school endin’, I just. I don’t think i’m ready to play volleyball without him, y’know? What if- What if the V. League doesn’t want me cause i’m not as good as the two of us, together?” 

Aran couldn’t think of a single time when Atsumu had doubted himself. Always working himself to the brink and complaining when nobody could keep up -  _ undoubtedly _ the strongest all round player on Inarizaki, despite Aran’s killer spikes and title as one of the top aces in high school volleyball. 

Miya Atsumu was spilling at the brim with self confidence, trusting his ability and snapping at others when he couldn’t trust theirs. 

But Aran was coming to question how much of this, his confidence and indifference, was rooted in his private war with his twin. How much of his fight was reserved for the one person who  _ could _ match him in his hunger.

Now, though, Atsumu wouldn’t have someone at his side to put the pressure on. All of those great expectations and harsh critiques had fallen on his own shoulders.

That’s got to weigh someone down. 

Miya Atsumu was not a close friend of self doubt, but realising that his anger at his brother was rooted in loneliness likely had him feeling hurt. 

Hurt by himself, at that.

Aran seemed to be piecing all of the little cogs that made Atsumu up back together, forming a clear picture of his workings.

“You won’t be alone on that court, ya know.”

“What? Well, obviously not Aran-kun. That's the point-”

“Someone just as good as your brother will meet you at the top. You  _ know _ that.”

“I-”

“So, this isn’t about volleyball, ‘Tsumu.”

“‘Course it is!”

“I think… I think you’re just not ready to do stuff on your own yet.” Aran didn’t give Atsumu time to protest. “And ya don’t wanna part from your brother. Sure, ya won’t be able to play volleyball together anymore. Not at an international stage, anyway. You know that, you’ve known it for a while. But now? I think you’ve seen Osamu out there, workin’ everyday, and you’ve convinced yourself that he’s the one leavin’  _ you _ behind.”

Atsumu’s eyes were trained on the other boy’s face, searching as if the answers to his own problems were written all over it.

“High school is over, Atsumu. Maybe ya wont be seeing him every day of yer life, but Osamu is still your brother. He’s not gonna forget about ya just because he’s not at your side.” He sighed, exhaustion catching up to him as well. “He couldn’t replace you that easily, you’re more important to him than ya think. Also, just ‘cause you twins have always been a package deal doesn’t mean you aren't your own person. You are just as valuable alone as you are by his side.”

There was a strange look written on the blond’s face. Aran didn’t expect a reply, and Atsumu didn’t give one. Patting him on the head before trailing his calloused hands down to cup his jaw, Aran gave him a slow nod. 

Passing the other a spare toothbrush from his drawer, the two walked to the bathroom. Atsumu wouldn’t stop staring at the floor, his thoughts so loud that Aran was sure he could hear them rattling in his own head. 

When they finally settled down into their beds, however, sleep took them both quick.

In the morning, Atsumu became acutely aware of the ache in his feet and the cramping in his legs.

He groaned as he woke, hearing voices outside of the bedroom door. Only then did he remember where he was, catching one of Aran’s mothers speaking:

“Yes, Atsumu-kun is here. He didn’t tell you? He stayed the night! Oh, Miya-san-” Footsteps continued down the hallway, voice out of earshot.

Oh, right. He hadn’t told his parents where he was going. Mostly because he hadn’t known himself. 

_ What an idiot. _

Sitting up, he looked at Aran’s sleeping form across from him.

“... _ you’ve convinced yourself that he’s the one leavin’ you behind.” _

Atsumu rubbed his eyes, stinging and slightly swollen from the previous day. 

Somehow, he would have to make it up to the other boy - intruding late at night and demanding comfort, how  _ pathetic _ . 

But he was more than grateful, Aran’s words giving him a lot to think about.

For now, though, he crawled into Aran’s bed - having done it hundreds of times at their sleepovers as a kid - and curled up at his side, comforted by deep breaths and relaxed features.

When the other woke, he distantly registered that Atsumu had infiltrated his space. The blond’s leg was wrapped around Aran’s waist, whose own face was now buried into the red t-shirt he had lent out the night before. Somehow, Aran had ended up halfway down the bed, only Atsumu’s head still on the pillow.

Hardly shocked by the arrangement, Aran chuckled to himself as he took in the strangely comfortable entanglement Atsumu’s long limbs had formed. 

Waking the blond up with a small shake, the two exchanged sleepy greetings - content to bask in each other’s warmth for a while. 

“I broke the cat.” Atsumu mumbled into the calm of the room.

“Cat? What’re you on about?”

Atsumu retracted his leg from where it had trapped the other boy, shuffling down the bed until they were face to face. He looked dishevelled, probably still half-asleep based on his clumsy movement.

“The thing I stepped on when me and ‘Samu fought. It was that ceramic cat that sits on our dresser.” Aran’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“Your lucky cat! Yeah, I remember seein’ that.”

“Yeah. Our grandma got it for my parents when we were born. The kanji on it says that it was supposed to bring happiness. But I broke it.”

“Wow, ‘Tsumu, I never took ya for the superstitious type.”

“I’m not! I’m just sayin’, that cat meant a lot to my parents-”  _ And to me _ . “-and now I’ll never get it back. Doesn’t it just suck?”

Aran wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He debated suggesting that the other try his best to fix it, but something told him Atsumu wasn’t looking for practical advice at that moment.

“Yeah.” He settled for showing his support by pushing blond, sleep-matted hair away from the other boy’s face. Atsumu closed his eyes at the soft touch, relaxing into the bed further.

Aran let the other boy doze for a while before finally bullying him out of bed. It was almost noon by the time they trudged to the bathroom, just as they had the night before. The air between them was significantly lighter, Atsumu laughing meanly as his well timed hip-check had Aran dribbling toothpaste down his shirt. 

After lunch, Aran biked out to Kita’s farm, Atsumu shouting as he hitched a lift on the back as if they were kids again. Before leaving, they had packed a bag full of food - more evidence of Aran’s recent boredom taking the form of baked goods.

It was still as hot as it had been for the past weeks, so they did some easy labour for a while before settling in the shade for some iced lemon water. Upon finding out that Kita had known about Atsumu’s hospital trip this whole time, Aran had choked on his drink whilst the other two laughed at his misfortune. 

Atsumu hadn't felt this content in a while, and it was just what he needed. 

When he got home in the late afternoon, making sure to thank Aran profusely and promise to visit again soon, he decided that he was officially a man on a mission.

It was time to speak to Osamu.

After asking his mother about Osamu’s working hours that week, pointedly ignoring the sparkle in her eyes, he crafted his plan of action:

Corner the bastard and pester him until he listens.

Atsumu had never been one for apologies, usually just moving on and hoping the other would follow his lead, but this situation required a bit more dedication than that. Unfortunately.

So, the plan all set, he waited for the next Thursday to come around - the day of the week that Osamu had off. 

Before it even started, it was going wrong. 

Sleeping through his alarm, having spent the entire night before fretting and worrying about what was to come, he woke to find that Osamu had already left. Apparently, he was out spending the day with Suna and Gin.

_ Great _ .

But Atsumu couldn’t wait, having enough self awareness to know that if he didn’t get it done today then he would waste another week of his life overthinking everything.

So, he pulled on his shoes and set out towards the park. His mother had tipped him off on where they could be, saying Osamu had walked there so it can’t be too far, but even without this knowledge he had a good guess.

The local green area was quaint; housing a couple sets of benches and a suggestive-looking figure in the centre of the small fountain. Inarizaki third years had made a habit of hanging out at a particular bench, the one with one of the middle panels snapped in half. They had written their names all across it, simultaneously scaring off the locals through petty intimidation. 

Having been shown the spot by Omimi, of all people, the twins and their friends had taken a liking of it very quickly.

Sure enough, as Atsumu dodged the groups of families loitering in the grass, there they were - the three of them laughing at something Gin was explaining with broad hand gestures.

Anxiety through the roof already, Atsumu walked faster to compensate for the shake in his knees. Trying his best to keep his slight limp subtle, he waved as he caught Suna’s eye. 

Sitting down at the spare seat diagonal from his brother, the other two welcomed him as they always would - with jabs and jokes the like.

“Where the hell have you been!?” Ginjima elbowed his arm lightly. “Ya got a secret lover or somethin’?” 

“Nah, Gin, he’s all eyes for Aran.”

“Hey!” Atsumu laughed. He’d missed them both, after all.

But the companionable spell was broken when Osamu didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge him. The other boys picked up on it immediately.

“Oi, let's go get some snacks - something cold. It’s too damn hot out here.” Suna stood, sending a meaningful look to Gin (who followed his lead). “You two assholes want anything?” 

He was met by twin sharp shakes of the head. 

“Okay, the line might be long so we’ll be gone for a while!” 

Then they were off, whispering not-so-quietly as they sped away.

(“ _ What line? Where are we goin’?”  _

_ “I don’t know, I needed an out! _ ”)

It was awkward. 

Both of them sat in silence, staring at the markings across the wooden-table that separated them. 

Atsumu sighed, gearing himself up to speak, when-

“‘M sorry, ya know. About gettin’ you hurt.”

His eyes darted up for a moment; Osamu was still glaring downwards, face looking a bit constipated. Atsumu thought he’d put him out of his misery, replying before he had the chance to retract his apology.

“Nah, wasn’t that bad. Not like that time I ate shit and almost broke my nose at practice last year.” 

They both let a huff of air from their noses, almost daring to catch each other’s eye but not quite looking high enough.

“Yeah, right. Ya got blood all down the hallway, dickhead. Dad had  _ me _ clearin’ it up.” 

That explained why the house seemed so immaculate when they got home from the hospital, then.

“What, ya scared of a bit of blood, ‘Samu? Lame.”

“Says you, bet ya shat your pants when you realised. Lucky it was on the bottom of your foot so ya couldn’t see it, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” 

Atsumu didn’t even try to deny it, feeling a mounting relief that they knew one another so well. Osamu  _ was _ still his twin, after all. 

Having someone who knew you as well as you knew yourself meant a lot of things, the most notable being the way you could dance around a topic without having to clarify what you really mean. 

But ‘Samu got it. He always did.

“I’m sorry too. About your cheek. Didn’t mean to make ya uglier than ya already are.”

“Coulda been worse, thought you were stronger than that, anyway.”

“Hey! I could’ve knocked ya cold, asshole. I was just holdin’ back for your sake.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, ‘Sumu.”

“Oh, fuck off.” 

Their tones were equally light, nothing like that morning all those weeks ago.

“‘Samu. I didn’t mean what I said. That day.”

“I know.

“I think i’m just sad that you're goin’-”

“Stop apologisin’, ‘Sumu. It’s weird.”

“Oi! I’m just sayin’-”

“I know exactly what you’re sayin’!” Osamu snapped first, looking his brother dead in the eye. There was something akin to anger across his face, but Atsumu could tell it wasn’t directed at him this time. “I’ve been shitty too, ya know. Shouldn’t have taken on so many hours at the shop these past weeks, we are still kids after all.” 

“But you’re doin’ it for your dream, ‘Samu! It’s worth it!” 

“It’s not worth missin’ out on our last summer at home together, though!” 

Their voices dropped again at that, suddenly very aware of what little time they had left. There was that clock again, looming over their heads.

“‘M just bein’ pathetic, ‘Samu. Ya don’t have to hang with your annoying brother out of pity.”

“Shut up, ‘Sumu, jeez. Ya chat a lot of shit for a self proclaimed genius.” Osamu glared at him. “Has it ever crossed your tiny, pea sized brain that you’re my other half, too? Bein’ a twin isn't one sided, ya know.”

Atsumu was shocked to silence; he’d never heard a half-decent, let alone  _ sappy _ , sentence come out of his shitty brother’s mouth. 

“So, are ya done mopin’ around the house and avoiding everyone now?”

“Not so fast, ‘Samu! I gotta apologise too!” Never one to be outdone. “I bet ya shop is gonna be awesome when ya have the money to open it up, and ya still need to tell me all about yer plans for the name and shit. I’ll visit all the time and sample all yer recipes, mark my words!” 

“That’s it, you’re already banned from the entry list of all the branches I’m gonna open.”

“‘Samu! Wait,  _ branches _ ? You’re gonna start a chain?”

“Yup. Onigiri Miya, that’s what i’m callin’ it.”

“Why not Onigiri Osamu? Sounds cool.”

“Well, you’re gonna need a backup job in case ya end up gettin’ kicked off yer next team for bein’ such a dick, right?” Atsumu read between the lines easily. “Ugh, don’t  _ cry _ , ya scrub.”

“‘M not! Shut up.” Atsumu blinked away the glassiness in his eyes, turning away to not-so-subtly brush the tears caught in his lashes. 

It was quiet for a minute, the chatter of the general public sounding so far away.

“Here.” Osamu said, grabbing his backpack from the floor beside him and rummaging around inside. He pulled out a bundle of fabric; one of his old t-shirts. Atsumu’s confusion slowly morphed into recognition as the other boy gently unravelled it. “I tried my best.”

Sitting in the grey-haired boy’s hands was their old lucky cat. The one that had been caught in the crossfire weeks prior.

It was disfigured, assembled from jagged lines. Some parts of it were still missing, the face slightly skewed. But it was there, holding its right paw in the air, looking polite and sophisticated with its bow and gemstone. 

“You…”  _ You fixed it. You must’ve scoured our floor to find all the pieces. You must’ve done it all by yourself, too, because our parents would want us to fix our own mess. You must’ve spent hours and hours putting it back together _ . There were so many things Atsumu wanted to say, but in the end he settled for this: “You did an  _ awful  _ job, ‘Samu.” 

Atsumu prayed the other hadn’t noticed how thick his voice sounded. Osamu didn’t point it out, even if he did.

“I had to improvise, okay? ‘S not my fault you managed to get half of it wedged in yer foot.”

“Well… It kinda  _ is  _ your fault, ya know.”

They looked at each other, relief written all over their faces. 

Then, they laughed.

“You really just carried that around all day?”

“Well, Ma told me you were askin’ about my off-days so I assumed you would come find me.”

“That  _ traitor _ .”

“I’m glad ya finally did, though. Was gettin’ pretty bored without yer irritating ass comin’ to piss me off every five minutes.”

“You could’ve come to see me, ya know.”

“‘Sumu, we  _ both  _ know that you would’ve just ignored me. Just like how you pretended that you were asleep when Kita came to visit.”

“Hey! How’d you know about that?”

“He told me. Ya really suck at actin’.”

Atsumu could’ve died from embarrassment right then and there, head already spiralling down a rabbit hole of self-deprecation.

Before Osamu could torture him any further, they spotted the other two walking towards them carrying two pots of shaved ice each. He carefully wrapped the cat back up, placing it in his bag once again.

“You bastards done, yet? We got snacks. Atsumu, why’re you all red? Have you got allergies or something?”

“Nah, Rin, he got laughed at by a couple girls who saw him fall off his chair.”

“Stop makin’ shit up, ‘Samu!”

“I believe him.” Gin chipped in, passing Atsumu the pot in his left hand. 

“I hate all of ya.” Atsumu complained, face squished against the table top whilst the others cackled.

Digging into their refreshing snacks and chatting about both everything and nothing, Atsumu felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

Even the most fragile of objects could be put back together.

_ two years later _

Finishing his third year of high school had felt like a one way road with no return.

Maybe there was truth in that; things never would be the same, as was the way of life.

Maybe the Miya twins would never take the international stage together, but you know what? That was alright.

Offers had started coming in late autumn; invitations to the winter tryouts for a range of V. League teams, and who was Atsumu to say no. Offers arrived for Osamu, too, but seeing them get dumped with the waste wasn’t half as painful as he thought it would be.

Signing with MSBY, surprisingly grateful for the familiar presence of Bokuto Koutarou, was a step that Atsumu was content to make alone.

Just like the porcelain that had pierced his skin years ago, the source of pain had long since been removed - a once open wound cleaned and closed for good. 

Sometimes, he could still feel it. Phantom pain on the base of his left foot, a twinge that lasted no longer than a second. But he had long since recovered and, no matter how hard he thought about it, those scars would never reopen.

That summer had come and gone; the latter part of which consisted of trips to the coast and days spent basking in their freedom. 

Osamu dropped half of his shifts in favour of only going in when strictly necessary, despite his brother’s complaints. 

_ (“Ya shouldn’t just waste the opportunity to get some money, ‘Samu! Not just because of me!” _

_ “This has nothin’ to do with you, scrub. I just wanna relax a bit, that’s all.”) _

Atsumu and Aran grew closer. Brief daytime visits became long nights spent together. At first they simply eased each other’s volleyball-fuelled self doubt; practicing new moves and reassuring the other should he start to doubt himself. But their relationship soon began to change.

Friendly praise turned into heartfelt proclamations, and falling in love had never felt so easy.

Despite the rocky start, Atsumu slowly began to understand what summer was really about - what his classmates had gossiped about in the final weeks of high school. 

Life was fine. It was great, even. 

Finishing his third year of high school had been an ending, whether Atsumu had liked it or not. But visiting the first branch of Onigiri Miya after their first big win, located exactly four minutes away from the Black Jackals’ training facility, felt a lot like a beginning:

Sitting in the restaurant’s bar area whilst Osamu prepared the food, his new team at his side and his arm hanging off Aran’s shoulder, a familiar object caught Atsumu’s eye.

There by the till sat a white lucky cat. Ugly and slightly disfigured, perhaps, but still whole. 

That was all that mattered.

─────  ฅ/ᐠ｡ᆽ｡ᐟ \  ─────

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your time here!!! This was one of the hardest things I've ever attempted to write, as well as the longest, so I hope my sweat and tears were worth it.  
> \- Sending many thanks to my friend Elle for saving my life and proofreading this for me, ily bro 
> 
> (also the official translation of 'lucky cat' ( _Maneki-neko _in Japanese) is actually 'beckoning cat' in English!!! However, I kept it as the former because I thought it worked better with the theme of luck that I call on several times throughout the fic.  
>  Also, I did some reading into traditional Japanese superstitions of twins and it was thought to be very unlucky; whilst these kind of fears aren't very common in the modern day, I wanted to include it in the intro to make it more impactful. It's actually really interesting to see how different cultures worldwide have different superstitions, and I ended up going on a google deep dive about it whilst researching - I highly recommend.)__
> 
> __feel free to come hang with me on twitter @cowgirlhabit <3_ _


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